Up to the time of his death in 1895, Cantù wrote almost without intermission. Besides the books already mentioned, the most notable are the 'History of a Hundred Years, 1750-1850' (1864), and the 'Story of the Struggles for Italian Independence' (1873). His masterpiece is the 'Universal History,' the best work of its kind in Italian and perhaps in any language for lucidity and rapidity of narration, unity of plan, justness of proportion, and literary art. It is however written from the clerical point of view, and is not based on a critical study of documentary sources. The political offenses for which Cantù suffered persecution were his attempts to secure a federal union of the Italian States under the hegemony of Austria and the Papacy. THE EXECUTION From 'Margherita Pusterla' The beautiful sunshine which one sees in Lombardy only at the season of vintage, spread its white light and gentle warmth upon the sombre façades of Broletto. The Piazza was packed with people; the balconies and belvideres were filled with motley groups. Even ladies were contending for the best places to see the horrible sight. One mother showed her little boy all this preparation for death, and said to him:-- "Do you see that man yonder with the long black beard and rough skin? He devours bad boys in two mouthfuls: if you cry, he will carry you off." The frightened child tightly clasped his mother's neck with his small arms, and hid his face in her breast. Another, half ashamed at being seen there, asked, "Who is the victim?" "It is," replied a neighboring stranger, "the wife of the man who was beheaded yesterday." "Ah, ah!" put in a third, "then it is the mother of the little boy who was executed yesterday with Signor Pusterla?" "How was that?" resumed the first speaker; "did they behead a child?" "It is only too true," said a woman, joining in the conversation; "and such a pretty little boy! Two blue eyes, bluer than the sky, and a face as gentle and sweet as that of the Christ-child, and hair like threads of gold. I came here to show my boy how the wicked are punished, and as I stood near the scaffold, I heard and saw everything!" "Tell us, tell us, Mother Radegonda." And Radegonda, enchanted at occupying the centre of attention, began. "I will tell you," she said. "When he was there--but for the love of charity, give me more room; you do not wish to stifle my little Tanuccio?--Well, when he began to ascend the ladder, ah, see, the child does not wish to go! He stamps his foot, he weeps, he cries--" "I believe you," interrupted a person named Pizzabrasa, "for I heard all the way from the Loggia dei Mercanti, where I was being crushed, his cries of 'Papa! Mamma!'" "That was it," continued Radegonda; "and he recoiled with horror before that savage figure," she said, pointing with her forefinger to Mastro Impicca. "His father sobbed, and could not speak; but his confessor whispered in his ear--"